


heart attack

by kuroopaisen



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mindless Fluff, also shirtless bokuto is too much for all of us, an attempt at humour was made, and they were ROOMMATES, bokuto is earnest and easily misled, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26571559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuroopaisen/pseuds/kuroopaisen
Summary: your hot roommate likes to walk around without his shirt on.
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 242





	heart attack

“he’s doing it again.”

“huh?” oikawa’s voice crackles from the other end of the phone.

“he’s walking around the house shirtless.”

it takes oikawa a few seconds to catch up. “oh, right. your hot roommate.”

you two have had this conversation many a time over the past two weeks. you’d quickly surmised that bokuto koutarou would be the death of you. probably by heart attack. oikawa had found that idea stupid.

“what do i do?” you ask, chewing on your lip.

“you could always ask him out.”

you scoff at the absolute certainty in his voice. “how dare you assume i wouldn’t shrivel up and die if i so much as _attempted_ that?”

you don’t need to see your best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes at you. “why would you shrivel up and die?”

“what if he says no?”

“he’s not going to say no.”

“but he _could_.”

“you’re hot, it’ll be fine.”

“but you haven’t _seen_ him, tooru,” you huff, waving off his assurances like they’re nothing. “pictures don’t do him justice.”

“i can’t believe you’re an adult…” oikawa sighs.

“you’re one to talk.”

“at least i can talk to people i find attractive,” he grumbles.

“he’s going to be a professional volleyball player,” you stress. “you _know_ what they’re built like.”

“you were friends with us all throughout high school, and yet i don’t remember you ever talking about any of us like this.”

“the only one of you worth talking about is iwaizumi.”

a moment of silence. “that’s fair.”

“anyway, that’s all besides the point,” you grumble.

“do the other guys know about this?” he asks. you don’t like the playfulness in his voice.

“as a matter of fact, they don’t.”

“why not?”

“if i told them, they’d meddle,” you stress. “directly.”

“you can’t stop me from telling them.” you can tell from his voice that he’s grinning.

“i’ll block your number and never speak to you again.”

oikawa doesn’t need time to decide that it’s a viable and realistic threat.

“wait, are you hiding in your room again?” he asks.

“duh.” you roll your eyes. “i wouldn’t be talking about this in the living room, would i?”

—

meanwhile, bokuto’s sitting on the couch, quite shirtless as he twiddles his thumbs.

when kuroo had first told him that the best way to win his roommate’s heart was to ‘just walk around shirtless,’ bokuto had been a bit doubtful.

of course, kuroo hadn’t won the heart of his partner by walking around shirtless, but boukto was loath to completely disregard his friend’s advice. he does, after all, have a partner, so perhaps following his advice isn’t the worst idea.

but you’d scurried into your room almost immediately upon catching sight of him, and bokuto fears that he’s frightened you.

he likes to consider you friends. sometimes you’ll watch movies with him – on occasion, you’ll even commit to a full anime series (even though he needs you to explain what’s actually going on half the time) – and there’s a certain ease of conversation between the two of you. in his mind, it’s only natural that he should develop a little bit of a crush. 

unfortunately that line of common sense didn’t follow through to the next step of actually asking you out. 

—

your sheer embarrassment goes head-to-head with your insatiable hunger and loses.

you peek through a crack in your door, trying to ensure that the hallway was clear. perhaps you could survive seeing him in the front room, but an encounter in your cramped little hallway was bound to end in humiliation.

you manage to skitter into the kitchen quietly, every one of your senses on high alert for the enemy (see: bokuto koutarou’s god-like body). 

you spy the back of his head on the couch from your new vantage point. if you’re quiet enough, chances are he won’t notice that you’re in the kitchen. if the universe really gave a damn about you, then it would let you be invisible for a few seconds. 

“hey!” bokuto calls from the couch, holding a hand up.

“hey,” you mumble as you make an active effort not to look at him. damn him and his masterfully sculpted biceps. they’re almost enough to make iwaizumi jealous. almost.

you dash over to your pantry, opening it up and rifling through a couple shelves. you don’t have the mental or emotional fortitude to stand around and cook a proper meal right now, so the next best thing is instant ramen.

“whatcha looking for?”

you almost shed your skin in fright.

there’s a warmth hovering over you, and you’re far too aware of what it is.

“something to eat.” you can only hope that those words came out legibly.

“oh, yeah, there’s not really much,” he shrugs, tilting his head at you.

you’re still not looking at him. has he done something wrong?

“ah,” is all you can muster in response.

“did you want to order in?” bokuto asks, a certain lightness to his voice. it’s similar to the tone he uses when _he_ wants to pick what you guys watch on a saturday night.

“uh—” oh no. “i—i don’t—um—”

what are you trying to say? you don’t know. bokuto has no chance of deciphering it.

but, he simply beams at you. “i’ll pay!”

sure, he has more money in his bank than you could ever dream of having – damn professional athletes and their egregious pay checks – but you still don’t want him to pay for you. 

“it’s okay,” you manage to say, holding up a hand to wave it off. 

you don’t expect him to take said hand. 

“please, let me treat you,” he grins. “as a thanks for helping me out with the bills last week.”

ah. that’s right. bokuto may be a sports star in the making, but he’s horribly lacking in the common sense most people rely on to make it through the day. 

“okay.” 

it’s very hard to say no to him when he’s looking at you like _that_ , with his golden eyes all big and round and his fluffy hair falling around his face. damn him. 

you let him fiddle away with one of the delivery apps – you admittedly aren’t paying much attention to what he’s ordering – and entertain yourself with the bare walls of your kitchen. 

maybe you could sneak back to your room until dinner came? 

“how was your day?” bokuto asks brightly, effectively trapping you in a conversation. 

_shit_. 

“uh– fine?” you swallow. “my lectures felt like they wouldn’t end, but i survived.” 

“good thing you did,” he beams, tilting his head at you. 

you blush, trying to ignore just how handsome he is. “how was practice?” 

sure, you want to turn your tail and run, but you really don’t want to hurt his feelings. 

“it was good!” he grins. “tsum-tsum’s been less annoyed with me recently!”

“oh, that’s great!” you mean it. from what you’ve heard about his team, this ‘tsum-tsum’ seems like he’s the sort of person who’s hard to keep up with. 

“he _almost_ gave me a compliment today,” bokuto said, voice brimming with pride. 

“really?” ‘tsum-tsum’ doesn’t seem like the type to give compliments, but bokuto always has a way of seeing the best in things. 

“yeah! he said my cross-court shot wasn’t half-bad!” 

you’re not quite sure if that counts as a compliment, but you won’t pop his bubble. 

“and omi didn’t flinch as much when i patted him on the back, either,” bokuto nods. 

“do you still use that hand sanitiser i gave you?” it had been a mindless little gift, one you’d bought after finding out he works with a germaphobe, but you are curious nonetheless. 

“of course!” bokuto nods enthusiastically. “it’s my lucky charm.” 

your breath catches in your throat. does he not understand what saying something like that could _do_ to a person? especially when it’s coming from the world’s best himbo? what are you even supposed to _say_ to that?

for the first time today, the universe takes pity on you. 

there’s a loud knock on the door. 

bokuto perks up. “i’ll get it!” 

“wait!” you call out instinctively.

bokuto pouts at you over his shoulder, frozen mid-stride.

“you’re shirtless.”

bokuto blinks at you for a moment. “is that a problem?”

three more brain cells stop fighting the good fight and perish. “no?” you frown. “yes?” he’s staring at you. “maybe?”

he’s still staring, a unique concoction of confusion, earnestness and disappointment in his eyes.

“it’s… a lot,” is all you manage to sew together.

“a lot?”

“you’re… a lot.”

“i’m a lot?” bokuto looks like he doesn’t know whether he should be upset by that statement or not.

“yes… muscles.” it’s official. you want to die. there’s no coming back from this.

bokuto glances down at his chest for a moment, a perplexed expression on his face. well, he _is_ beefier than most, and none of his teammates are quite as built…

“just let me get it,” you breathe, well-aware of just how red your face is. after what is bound to be a horribly awkward dinner, you’d need to hop online and look for a new place to live.

you take a deep breath as you open the door, hoping, _praying_ that this exchange, at least, would go smoothly.

you freeze as you look at the delivery boy’s face.

no way.

“holy shit,” makki grins, eyes crinkled and red cap slightly askew.

“no.” this is the last thing you need right now.

“ _this_ is where you live?” he asks, trying to pop his head through the doorway.

“uh—” you push him back instinctively, mustering up all your strength to budge the headstrong six foot asshole currently trying to force his way into your apartment.

he freezes, and you know the worst has happened.

“is that your roommate?” he asks, taking a step back with an infuriating grin on his face. “or are you getting some?”

“oh my _god_ makki, i’m going to—”

“do you know this guy?” bokuto’s suddenly behind you, hands clasped behind his back and head tilted to the side.

“unfortunately,” you mumble, trying to keep your expression as neutral as possible. if makki catches even a hint of weakness, he’d press at it relentlessly.

you look him up and down, frowning. “i thought you were working at a tech shop or something.”

he shrugs. “i lied.”

“ _why_?”

“i dunno,” he says, as if lying about your part-time job is the most casual thing in the world. “it sounded more impressive than ‘delivery boy’.”

it’s not like you expected any _more_ from him, but even this feels a little strange.

bokuto’s stomach grumbles from behind you. you remember that he’s _right_ there – and makki’s staring at him.

“why is he shirtless?” makki tilts his head to the side. “who is he?”

“my roommate,” you admit through your teeth.

makki stares at him for a few seconds more, a smirk spreading across his face. “is this why you won’t let us come over to your apartment?”

change of plans. time to pencil in a murder for seven o’clock. after your scheduled self-implosion, which is bound to happen any moment now.

“give me my food.”

“not until you answer my question,” makki grins, holding the takeout bag above your head. damn him and his height.

you glare at him, fists clenched at your sides. “i won’t hesitate and you know it.”

the threat of a knee to the balls is usually enough to make any man quiver. but not makki.

“really?” he smirks. “in front of your hot roommate?”

“i’m going to _kill_ you—”

“i can’t believe you’ve been keeping him from us,” makki tsks, holding out a hand to bokuto. “nice to meet you. i’m a friend from high school.”

bokuto shakes his hand tentatively, a bit behind on exactly what’s going on here.

“and you are?” maki asks, a disgustingly sweet smile on his face.

“bokuto.”

“nice,” makki nods, looking him up and down. you know this will be _immediately_ reported in the group chat. you’re never going to live this down. and, makki now knows where you live. you expect that you’re going to get some unwanted visitors very, very soon.

“get out of here,” you grumble, taking full advantage of makki’s distracted gaze and grabbing the bag out of his hand.

“hey!”

“have a nice night!” you call, pushing him out of your doorway with one hand. “i’ll leave you a bad review!”

“no, don’t—”

the door slams in his face, and you feel like you can breathe properly for the first time in the past ten minutes.

that is until you remember that bokuto’s standing right behind you. 

“should we eat?” he asks, a little too close to your ear than you would like. 

you flinch, taking a step forward. your nose presses against your front door and you curse every conceivable deity that comes to mind. 

“yes,” you nod, lightly banging your head on the door. perhaps it’s what you deserve. 

“okay,” bokuto says slowly, as if he’s not sure about what to do next. “i’ll get some plates.” 

you take a moment to catch your breath. all you have to do is make it through, what? the next twenty minutes? surely you could manage that. _surely_. 

bokuto’s already over by the couch, two plates in hand, and still very, very shirtless. that’s the reason everything’s gone tits up today. because he wouldn’t constrain his pectorals behind a thin wall of blended cotton. 

but you sit yourself down on the couch after unpacking your food on the coffee table. you sit yourself down on the couch, unsure if you can find the strength to start eating. 

bokuto plops himself down next to you. it’s almost like he’s vibrating with excitement. why does he have to be so damn hot _and_ cute?

the two of you sit on the couch in total silence. 

bokuto stares at you. you make a pointed effort to look anywhere that isn’t him. 

“are you okay?” he asks, a genuine pout on his face. 

“can you… can you put a shirt on?” it feels a bit like an admission, or some kind of surrender, but this has gone on too long. 

“oh, okay.” bokuto hops up, watching you for a moment before dashing off. 

once he’s out of sight, you sigh, resting your head in your hands. _what_ is going on? when you’d gotten back from university, you hadn’t expected the day to go like _this_. 

bokuto reappears out the corner of your eye, now modestly covered with a white shirt. it’s almost worse, honestly – the shirt really compliments his tan. 

“are you okay!?” his voice pitches as he moves towards you, placing a hand on your back. 

you flinch, dropping your hands from your face and closing your eyes. “yeah, i just…” honestly it feels a bit like you’re in purgatory. but that might sound a little dark. “it’s just been a weird night.” 

“i’m sorry.” you can’t see bokuto’s frown, but you hear it in his voice. 

you finally brave a proper look at him. somehow, his hair looks more deflated than usual. 

“i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable,” he specifies, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“uh–” you swallow roughly, unsure of where to go with this. “thanks? i guess?” 

bokuto pouts at you, his gaze flicking down to the floor. “i was just trying to impress you.” 

every single thought skids to a stop. what? _what_? he was walking around shirtless because he was trying to _impress_ you? well, it _worked_ , but he probably didn’t expect it to leave you speechless. 

“you… were trying to impress me?” the words feel strange coming from your mouth, but you manage to meet his eyes. 

“yeah,” he nods, his own cheeks darkening. it’s nice to know that the embarrassment isn’t one-sided. “my friend told me it was the best way to win you over.”

whoever this friend is, you intend to have a very stern word with them.

“you could just… ask me out,” you blink at him, unsure of how to proceed. 

“i could?”

“yeah?”

“would you have said yes?”

“i–” you clear your throat, breaking eye contact. “i guess?”

“so… that’s a yes?”

“yes?” 

bokuto stares at you, cheeks even redder than before and mouth slightly agape. 

“what?” you stare back at him. is he broken? has his brain finally given up too? 

“do you wanna go on a date?”

“i–” it’s your turn to have your mouth hang slightly agape. 

“please?” he asks, eyes going round and sad. 

“sure,” you blink. you? bokuto? a date? when? how? what–

“woo-hoo!” bokuto cheers, pumping his fists in the air. “alright!” 

oh man, this boy is definitely going to be the death of you. probably by heart attack. but, maybe that’s not the worst fate. 


End file.
